I Won't Let You Die
by verfens
Summary: Alfred F. Jones is a male nurse that is in Germany. That's not the problem. The problem is that his fellow medics are dead, along with the soldiers he was supposed to save- all except one pilot. Alfred swears that he will make him survive. USUK
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I'm not dead! I had emergency surgery, school bullshit, an now exams! So I'm posting one of the things I've been working on forever!

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Pain. That's all his world consisted of. He was just about completely sure of it. It hurt to move, hurt to breath…bloody hell, it practically hurt to _think_. His chest felt hot and stick

Pain and darkness. Darkness? …Yes, there was darkness…everywhere; consuming him, eating him_ let him go…._ Something was _hot_ and _sticky_ and _all over him_….and what was he doing here? More importantly…where was he? What was he doing? Why did it hurt so much? Stop, please…stop hurting him, what did he do wrong? He couldn't remember. Why was it so hard to think?

….And on the edge of his frayed consciousness, he wondered one final, disturbing question.

Who was he?

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Alfred F. Jones was so sore, it wasn't even funny. And even though his arm pulsed with pain, his lungs felt like they were going to burst from the sheer agony of breathing because of all the smoke, he knew that he was the luckiest of them all. He struggled to sit up, and looked around him. Devastation did not do anything to cover how his surroundings looked. Everything had been absolutely reduced to rubble.

….Where was he?

He couldn't place his surroundings, not with everything so completely destroyed. It sickened him to think that this had been a living, thriving city, possibly not even more than a few days ago. He pushed himself up into a standing position, and looked around.

Dead bodies that were hardly recognizable as his fellow doctors were strewn about, along with civilians everywhere. It looked like whatever army that had wanted to pass through had left ages ago, with some unknown soldiers with bullet holes through their heads. He would have felt sick, were this the first time he had seen all this. It was 1944. This war had been dragging on for ages, and he, who had once been a naïve boy, had become a man that had seen far too much in his time.

He looked past the bodies, and was rewarded. There was some medical supplies lying about ten feet from him that looked a little worse for wear. He stumbled over to where it was, and he picked it up. Bandages, opiates…some surgeon tools, and some things to sterilize anything. He blessed his lucky stars that he had found it.

Now then...Alfred looked around him. The first thing he had to do was get the _hell_ out of the open. No one around him was going to be alive. But he checked anyway. Each and every one of them had their pulses checked, even if he saw the bullet hole in their brains. He had to be _sure_ that he wasn't leaving someone to die without even trying to help them. But by now, all were cold and dead. Bodies limp. Some of them even had blood pooling in the parts of their body that touched the ground. It used to sicken him. But by this point in time….it was simply another given of this horrible war he had foolishly signed up for three years ago. Once he was sure everyone was dead in his radius, he started to walk over a hill that had likely been a house, once. As quickly as his tired, aching legs could carry him, Alfred rushed to a smoking beacon in the middle of a field. It looked like a plane, a British one that had been shot down, but had managed to land in the middle of all this chaos.

Meaning one thing that gave Alfred's heart a bursting leap of hope- a landed plane that was largely intact could only mean one thing….

There was a pilot in that mess somewhere.

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At what seemed a painstakingly slow pace, Alfred finally made his way to the plane, and hopped up using all the strength he had in him to look inside. The cockpit was smoking, the shield broken, but there was also one thing inside. A person was huddled in the seat, clutching weakly at his side which was bleeding profusely from an unknown cause. Alfred knew what to do from there. He punched the glass in, and reached in. At this point, he heard the pained whimpers coming from the man, and something inside him solidified. In a very soothing voice, even though it was likely the man couldn't hear him, he said softly, "I promise you. I'm going to get you out of here. I'm not going to let you die."

In a battle field of dead soldiers, this promise seemed useless. The man was unconscious, likely in shock, and probably so torn up on the inside he was going to die before the night was over. But Alfred was going to do his best to stop that. He wanted this pilot, who even though he was so badly injured, had managed to land his plane down safely. His hands touched pale skin. It was trembling slightly, beneath his army uniform in which he had probably proudly served the queen of his nation. Alfred pulled himself farther up onto the plane, trying to get a better look of the man's injuries. He didn't want to move him until he was sure the man was not impaled on anything.

Gently, very, very, _painstakingly_ gently, he felt around the man's body, and found the source of blood, from a few shots to the chest. It looked like he had been shot down by a gunner when he had been flying low. The bullet wounds seemed deep, but it was more the bleeding Alfred was worried about. If he hadn't died by this point in time, it was highly unlikely they had managed to get any major internal organs. …Or, the bullets were simply stopping them from bleeding out entirely…which though gruesome, was also possible. He started applying pressure to the wound's, in an attempt to keep him from bleeding out. Alfred saw that the man was not attached to anything on the plane except for his mask and the equipment that kept him strapped in, which was easy enough to take off.

Once the man was free, Alfred had one of his arms snake beneath the pilot to lift him out of the plane. He heard a small little noise of discomfort, which comforted him. If he wasn't so far gone, and could still see differences in his surroundings, than he had a good chance of survival, and that comforted Alfred.

The man in his arms was lighter than Alfred would have originally expected, and _definitely_ lighter than he liked. But there was nothing he could do about it at this point in time. Still applying pressure to the man's chest, he felt the man shudder in his arms, and Alfred noticed that he was shivering in cold and perhaps shock, trembling bad enough to put a leaf in the wind to shame. Alfred wasn't stupid, the pilot was chilled in the wind, and so, he carefully balanced the man with an arm and his knee, the other arm digging through his medical box to fish out the emergency blanket. The man's clothes were tattered, he noted, before pulling himself together enough to wrap the man as tightly as the American nurse could manage with the scratchy, but warm, fabric.

He was going to save him.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Ah yes. I graduated. Holla.

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Alfred had gotten the pilot to a safer place, inside a partially destroyed building with enough roof cover to prevent gunners from seeing them. He laid the man down, and sighed. This was going to be a rough night for both of them.

Alfred removed the blanket, and winced for the man. A line of bullets went across his chest, but it appeared they hadn't hit anything major. That was good. He looked through his kit, and sighed as he saw a long pair of tweezers. Also good.

He had started to open him up and get them out, trying to plug the bleeding as he finished, when he saw hazy green eyes peak out from behind thin eyelashes. "Hey sleeping beauty." He joked lightly, trying to keep him calm. "Glad to see you've chosen the land of the living."

The man tried to speak, but his breath was weak. "Hh...hhurts..." He groaned, and Alfred's heart went out for him.

"I'm sure it does." He removed Arthur's shirt, starting to remove the bullets in his chest. "But I have a reward for you when I'm done." He pat his hair carefully, taking a closer look at the head trauma. He then went back to his abdomen to look at the bullet wounds.

The man cried out in pain as Alfred gently prodded around his abdomen. "S-Sto...stop...!"

"Well, looks like I should use that now, hunh?" He said, getting out his big shot of morphine for Arthur. He carefully stuck the needle where Arthur couldn't see it to ensure he wouldn't panic, and gave him a nice rush of pain medicine.

"Unh.." The poor man was at least feeling better now. Alfred would increase the dose as necessary. The nurse ruffled his hair, and went back to his work. He had him bandaged up as the late evening faded into night.

The man was starting to hang in there. He had been slipping unconscious for a while, but he was getting better. That was a good sign.

Alfred left him momentarily to dig around through the dead soldiers things, and found things to set up camp- blankets, cover, and some food even.

He came back, and set up the tent for he and the man, moving him inside it so that he'd be a little warmer. Good thing too, because he was shivering, the poor thing. He looked to Alfred with quivering green eyes. His eyes were shining and bright, even though his life was slipping. Alfred got in bed beside him, allowing the man to cuddle. "You're going to be alright." Alfred promised. "I took out all the bullets, and then covered and bandaged you. Now for you to sleep." He covered them both with a blanket as he attempted to warm the pilot up.

The man slowly stopped shivering. "Do I... know you?" he mumbled, with a cute little accent. Definitely British. He wasn't gay or anything, though.

Alfred pat his head. "You do now." He said carefully.

"Uuhh.." The man grunted, trying to sit up. "Nnh!" He stiffened in pain.

Alfred forced him back down. "Shhh..." He murmured. "Go to sleep." He encouraged. "You're very hurt right now." The man muttered it hurt to much, and Alfred gave him some more morphine, patting his head again. "You'll feel better soon."

"Ngh." He closed his eyes, reluctant. "Don't..nh."

"I won't let you die." He promised again, getting him comfortable. "Now go to sleep."

After a long while of tossing and turning, he finally went to sleep, and Alfred smiled. "Good night." He murmured, and closed his eyes, cuddling up with him for warmth.

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The man jolted awake in the middle of the night with a shout, startling Alfred awake.

Alfred asked what was wrong, confused. "What's wrong?"

He was breathing hard, eyes wide. "Ah.. hhn.." Alfred checked over his wounds to make sure nothing had been damaged.

He was shaking, but slowly calming. "Dream.. Just a dream..." Alfred smiled softly, reaching over to comfort him by patting his back.

Alfred nodded once he was sure nothing was hurt. "You're okay." He reminded, pushing him back down. "But you're still pretty injured, bandaged up like a mummy as you are."

"Unh.. I-I know.." At least the poor guy was talking now.

Alfred nodded again with a gentle smile. "Go back to sleep. I only have a bit of morphine left." The man groaned and closed his eyes.

"The guns.." He murmured. Alfred nodded. He had heard of people in the Air Force coming back with terrible nightmares and worse. His dad had told him never to join the army, so he had become a nurse. Soon, the man was in an uneasy sleep. Alfred supposed he was afraid. Alfred gently comforted him, and smiled.

He was going to live, at this rate.

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In the morning, he was still there, his breathing more stable. Alfred woke first. Alfred would wait until he woke, but then they had to get on the move. It wasn't safe here.

It wasn't safe at all. The man woke up not too long later, and groaned with pain. Poor thing, Alfred thought. But he didn't have much morphine left. He had to save it.

Alfred was packing up everything he could take. "We have to go now." He said, being kind with him.

"W-why?" He said, looking startled. "It's dangerous here." He said simply. "We're in Germany."

"Germany.. but why are we in Germany?" The poor man looked horribly confused. Alfred looked sad for him.

"You must have hit your head pretty hard." He murmured, checking out his eyes. "We'll rest tonight once we have made some tracks. I'll explain what's going on then." He frowned.

"Have I.. lost my memory?" Green eyes watched him worriedly, before they looked down at his own hands.

"Maybe." He said, being careful with this. "It could come back." He looked down. "Whatever you say." Alfred smiled. "Anyway, I'm Alfred. I'm a nurse."

"I'm..." He grasped for a name. Somewhere, one came to him. "Arthur."

Alfred smiled. "Good to know. Arthur, yesterday I saved your life."

Arthur weakly smiled. "Thank you."

Alfred pat his back. "Just follow me." He instructed. "Do as I do." He picked up their things, and got moving. Arthur did so obediently. He walked out with Alfred, clutching his side. Alfred kept in the buildings, hiding out of sight of gunners and aircraft. He made Arthur do the same.

Once they had made it to a good hiding spot, he stopped, and made camp. Arthur sat, grimacing. "May I.. ask you a question?"

"Ask away." He invited, gently patting down the seat beside him so Arthur knew he could get closer.

"Is this.. war?" He asked. Poor guy.

"Yes, there is a war going on." He told him.

"I... I suspected the situation would go bad with Germany.." He looked down. "How bad is it?"

"Better now!" He said, brightly. "We're in Germany after retaking back continental Europe!"

"Retaking..? What happened...?" Arthur looked alarmed. Alfred was not the person to be asking these questions- he didn't know everything about the war there was to know. That was bad for someone like Arthur, who literally knew nothing.

"Er, that's complicated. Hitler essentially took all of continental Europe, some of Africa, etc..."

"Bastard." Arthur mumbled. "I knew he had been up to something." He trailed off, becoming more serious. "And.. what year is it..?"

"1945!" He grinned. "The year we're going to win!"

"19...45..." Arthur trailed off. "Then I'm.. 23."

"What year was it when you first remember things?"

"1939," he mumbled. "It was March."

Alfred leaned back, sighing. "You went to war September that year."

"A-ah..." Arthur trailed off. "Then... Why am I here? Why am I not home? What happened.. to England?"

"Looks like you were in the Royal Air Force." He said, patting his back.

Arthur's eyes lit up. "The RAF?" Clearly he was excited about that, and Alfred grinned again.

"Yep. That was the plane I found you in. Also, England's mostly fine. It was never actually invaded."

"Mostly..?" Arthur raised an eyebrow.

Alfred was quiet for a bit, before, "Well, Germany bombed the hell out of you guys."

Arthur immediately went pale. "Bombed..?"

Alfred nodded solemnly. "But you guys kept on plowing. The US got involved 4 years ago."

"Fashionably late," Arthur muttered. "I wonder... if my family is okay..."

Alfred sighed. "I'm sure they are Arthur. Things always turn out right." He looked up at the roof of the barn they were in. "Man, damn that bird." He heard chirping.

Arthur laughed half-heartedly. He looked up. "Yeah.. It's been..." He stood up to get a look at it. It was only a baby, crying alone in a destroyed nest.

Alfred felt bad for complaining about it then. "Will its mom come back, you think?"

"Its mother..." Arthur looked over. The mother bird had been crushed under a piece of bombed out roof.

Alfred looked down. "I don't want to leave it to starve." He murmured.

Arthur tried to reach it, but it was too high up. The rafters looked too fragile to climb. "Do you have something long enough to reach?" He asked, looking worried.

Alfred scooped him up, and put Arthur on his shoulders. "Grab it." He mumbled.

Arthur did so with a shaking hand. The baby gave out panicked peeps. "It's alright," he said softly. Alfred gently set him and the baby bird down, and pat Arthur's shoulder as he looked at their prize.

"Well, its cute." He smiled softly. "What are you going to do?"

"I... I don't suppose we've got any rations we can give it," he mumbled. "Baby birds.. need to be fed by syringe..."

Alfred dug through his medical bag, and found one. "Here we are!" He grinned brightly. They could live for a few days without food. The bird would die within hours. This was worthy of giving up some of their things. He gave Arthur some crackers they had, and the pilot ground them up for the bird, and added a drop of water.

"It's the best we can do," he mumbled. The baby bird was crying for food. Arthur gently put the syringe down its throat and fed it. Alfred supported him, and took out some bandages, getting some tape, and making a makeshift nest for the baby. Arthur gently kissed the baby's head. It had stopped crying. Alfred sighed.

"I admit, I'm a sucker for baby animals." He said plainly. "We're taking it with us."

And Arthur smiled just a little brighter.

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A/N: Hopefully it's good? Anyway, thanks for all the wonderful reviews! I really appreciate them and they inspire me to keep writing!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: wowowow! Thanks so much for the reviews!

Alfred let Arthur sleep through the night. He got him up early the next morning, as the first light of the sun was visible over the horizon. "Let's get moving." He told him gently.

Arthur complained, muttering to himself, but that was until the little bird started to chirp. It was hungry. Arthur fed it with what he could, speaking softly to it. Alfred smiled, softening a little, before urging him to get a move on. He was tired himself, but he knew they had to keep moving. He eventually made Arthur get going.

However, after days of only seeing Alfred, Arthur was beginning to get stir crazy…and suspicious.

"What the hell is this?" He asked irritably one day. Alfred grumbled, giving him a sideways glance.

"It's war." He was toneless. "Everyone's heading to Berlin. I'm just trying to get back to the last place I knew the American army was."

"I cannot believe that every last person is gone." He muttered. Alfred looked to the sky, asking, no, begging for patience.

"I've been purposefully avoiding the cities." He admitted.

"But…why?" Arthur sounded ready to explode at that. "Why don't we go into them?"

"Because, Nazis." Alfred snippily replied.

"And who the hell are they?" Arthur sneered.

"They're the German army." Alfred sighed again.

Arthur was silent for a bit, stewing. "They couldn't be that bad…" He muttered. "We're in Germany."

"They're actually the scum of the earth." Alfred again gave him a sideways glance.

"That's plenty vague." Arthur snapped.

"No, it's not that I'm being vague, what they've done to humanity is literally so terrible, that I don't even want to talk about them." Alfred muttered.

Arthur stared him down, obviously having a hard time believing. "Whatever you say," he mumbled. "I'm the one with memory loss." Alfred sighed. He kept up the trek, but Arthur had his doubts. Arthur was just going to stick close to this guy, anyway. Sounded American. He could trust an American...

They came up on a city, and Alfred headed the other way.

He could trust him...right?

Arthur frowned. They were running low on rations. It wouldn't be hard at all to dodge into the city and sneak off with some food, right? The poor bird was hungry. But when he suggested this to Alfred, the nurse told him no right away.

Arthur grumbled. His wound was healed enough that he was confident he could go it alone. And he was starving.

Before Alfred knew it, Arthur was missing.

Alfred dodged in after him, cursing. Stupid man.

The city was swarming with SS. Arthur was nowhere to be found. Alfred, completely untrained, was quickly caught and brought to him. Arthur had been nabbed while trying to take off with some stale bread. He was desperately trying to hide the baby bird in his pocket.

Alfred was brought into the cell with Arthur, glaring at him. He mouthed the word stupid at him when the guards were gone.

Arthur glared back. The bird chirped weakly, and Arthur panickedly shushed it.

After a few minutes of them being alone in their cell, Alfred bit his head off. "They're going to torture us, then they're going to kill us." He growled lowly.

Arthur winced. "Will you not?" he asked, irritated. "The baby.."

Alfred grumbled. "You're the one who didn't listen to me."

"I didn't think they would be so.. alert," he muttered. "More than I counted on." Arthur looked uncertain. When the officer came around again, Arthur didn't speak. The officer regarded him with contempt.

Alfred rubbed his forehead. At least he had hid their supplies.

"This little bird is going to starve," Arthur mumbled. The baby bird was crying in hunger.

Alfred looked strained. "You did this. It's on you."

Arthur bit his lip. "They won't really kill us.. will they?"

"They will." He said, accepting it.

"What? Then... we've got to escape... we've just got to..." Arthur trailed off, looking to Alfred for hope.

"There is no escape. The SS have us. They're going to torture us, and kill us." Alfred laughed without humor.

Arthur paled. "H-hey, don't talk like that..."

Alfred glared. "I told you."

Arthur shook his head. "But.. we can't die here. That's ridiculous..."

Alfred sighed. "Accept it." There was no hope. Not even in being found before their inevitable death.

"No!" Arthur stood, clutching the small bird close. "What's the matter with you? What happened to your spirit?"

"It died when I saw what they did in those camps." He growled, glaring.

"C...camps..?" Arthur looked frightened.

Alfred nodded. "They trap people like animals, kill them en masse...if they're lucky."

"I.. I don't believe you," Arthur said with some hesitation. "In the middle of the 20th century..."

Alfred closed his eyes, leaning back. "Just wait until they start on us." He muttered.

Arthur went pale again. He sat. "You had so much spirit when we were outside..."

Alfred glared. "Until the guy I saved basically told me I was wrong about everything and a lier and got us both caught."

Arthur looked the other way. "At least we should make an effort to escape."

Alfred shook his head. "That'll make it all the worse."

"Come on," Arthur muttered. When rations came around, Arthur tried to get the baby to eat, but without a syringe it was useless.

Alfred had one, that he had brought in his pocket. "There. I thought this could happen."

Arthur fed the baby some gruel. He kissed it gently and tucked it into his pocket once again.

Alfred sighed. "I'm sorry I couldn't stop you."

"It's alright," Arthur said. "I suppose I was foolish."

Alfred nodded, eating what was left of his rations. "Damn right."

"Sorry..." The amnesiac smiled weakly.

Alfred sighed.

He was taken first.

Arthur waited alone in his cell, scared. The little bird had grown into a bluebird adolescent, and Arthur found he was harder and harder to hide.

Alfred came back mangled. He was barely recognizable. When Arthur first saw him, he couldn't look away. "Oh.. my god..."

He didn't move after they threw him in. "Al..Alfred..?" Arthur reached for him, scared. Alfred groaned weakly, before they told Arthur to get up. The bird. Arthur tried to hide it from them, frightened, but it was too late. Its little blue head poked out from Arthur's pocket.

They didn't have the heart to kill a baby bird. They let it go into the wild.

Arthur watched as it left him. As they dragged him away, he wondered how it would survive.

He was sent back just as mangled, many of his wounds reopened. It had been a horrible experience, especially for one with the mind and memories of an 18 year old. He was weakly crying when they dumped him in.

Alfred was up, and moving around some. He got close to Arthur, trying to comfrot them both. Arthur was cut all over, acid poured into his wounds. "D-doctor.. ugh..." Alfred nuzzled him, and they fell asleep like that.

It was going to be a long night. Arthur awoke many times in pain and fear. The bird... the torture.. "Alfred.." Arthur murmured, wondering what had happened. Alfred didn't make much noise other than weak whimpers.

The next morning, it was Arthur's turn again. Alfred didn't make much noise other than weak whimpers.

Arthur groaned as they hoisted him up. This time, they broke his fingers as they interrogated him. Of course, Arthur knew nothing.

By the time they threw him back, Alfred hadn't moved from the time he had been left there.

Arthur collapsed next to him, covered in cuts and bruises. He had been stripped down.

Alfred reached out weakly to him to take his hand.

Arthur's eyes had been dulled. He didn't respond.

They had been determined to be useless. They were to be shot and killed. Alfred closed his eyes, and let himself pass out from blood loss as the first shot rang out.

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A/N: hahahahha. Nice cliffhanger for you! Review if you liked it!


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